by Peter Rose •
Saturday. The usual 9 a.m. flight.
The man beside me hefts a Gladstone.
‘I haven’t seen one of those in years,’
I say, this being sociable Saturday.
I recall a worn one from my twenties
owned by someone else. Always empty
it went everywhere with him,
like a statement of intent. This one
From the New Issue
Fiction
Yilkari: Novel by symbiosis by Nicolas Rothwell and Alison Nampitjinpa Anderson
by Paul Daley
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